


Blood For The Blood God

by BB_Miracle



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), None really - Fandom, Sort of - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Cult, TechnoBlade, This is from a discord server, about the dream team, this whole thing was based off of technoblade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26208805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BB_Miracle/pseuds/BB_Miracle
Summary: A story of betrayal, blood and chaos.And maybe a soft epilogue for Mira and Frogey (the sacrifice lol)
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Blood.

The room was dark, dimly lit only by the few candles scattered throughout the circular room. Shelves lined the wall, vials, skulls and books crowding every available shelf space. A platform jutted out of the center of the circular room, a table only a foot smaller than the platform balanced perfectly atop it. Said table had a small cloth rolled up at one end, a used-to-be dark grey tablecloth draped over it, now stained with a dark liquid. A figure stood at one end of the table, poised perfectly, the hilt of a sword grasped firmly in their scar covered hands. A maroon covered cloak covered their shoulders, a hood hiding their identity until the time it needed to be revealed. The ends of the cloak pooled around their ankles, and underneath the maroon cloth was a simple outfit. 

Soft footsteps could be heard from outside of the dimly lit room, and the previously-alone figure straightened up as multiple other figures entered the room, a stretcher being carried in by a few. The stretcher was placed on a separate table from the one standing in the center of the room, but one of the shorter hooded figures stepped away from the group, closer to the sword-wielding one. “Mira, the ritual preparations are complete.” They spoke, voice excited yet held back, for they must stay calm during the ritual. The figure stood at the end of the table looked up, a soft voice drifting out from beneath the hood. “Very well then, who shall we begin with?” The figure, Mira, said, gaze moving to sweep over the small crowd of hooded figures. The excited participant from before stepped closer once more, practically vibrating with suspense. “Mira, choose me. I shall be the first sacrifice of the night!” They pleaded, hood tumbling off to reveal their blonde hair as they awaited Mira’s answer. “So be it.” Was the response, and the blonde hastily scrambled onto the tablecloth covered table, laying gently as another figure moved forwards. “Wilbur, your robes are wrinkled. And Vibe, please stay still.” Mira commented, before taking a deep breath. 

“We, the pledged and the loyal, bring this sacrifice to you,” Mira spoke, her voice steady, but loud. “our savior and our esteemed god, take this offering as a sign of our loyalty,” the scar covered girl moving the sword to its proper position over the blonde’s heart. “and in turn, bring us good fortune and victory in the near future.” She plunged the diamond crafted sword into Vibe’s heart, effectively sacrificing her to their god. “Blood For The Blood God.” The phrase was repeated back to the sword wielding figure as they stepped away from the table. They all watched as a shimmering form floated above the dead body, and an echoing laugh erupted from said shimmering figure. “It worked Mira, it worked!” A small smile broke through the tallest figures cold exterior, and she turned to the rest of the group. “As I knew it would. Next sacrifice, please.” One by one the figures hesitantly climbed atop the table, and on by one, their hearts were sliced open as they became an offering for their esteemed god. And each time, a shimmering form of their previous self would appear and float off to the side, sighs of relief escaping them each time. 

And, not all too surprisingly, the blonde from earlier spent their time preparing a rebirth spell. They knew they had to please the blood god, and were willing to do anything to gain said gods approval. So they would shutter alive, only to scramble out of the piles of bodies and trapeze back onto the ritual table, and without missing a beat, would begin to prepare another spell. Soon enough, all of the sacrifices (voluntary or not) were through. All except one. The lone figure stood in the room, blade still running with blood as they let out a sigh. Vibe took notice of the figure, and called out to them through the afterlife. “Mira, I do believe it is your turn on the ritual table.” The still-hooded figure looked up, hesitating for only a moment before nodding, carefully lowering themselves onto the table, Mira stayed quiet as Vibe raised from the dead once more. They all too eagerly snatched up the blood covered blade, raising it and stabbing through Mira’s heart without hesitation. The dark eyed figure made no sound as the tip of the sword pushed through the bloody organ. Now that everyone was dead, Vibe raised their blood covered hands towards the sky, calling out with a crazed smile. 

“We have given you blood! We have given you offerings! We have given you our lives!” They yelled, a crazed glint passing over their eyes. “Now please, oh blood god, show yourself to your loyal supporters!” But no response came. Instead, Vibe turned back to the shimmering figures, failing to notice the absence of one, with a dangerous smile on their face. “Oh wait. I already have.” They prompted, flourishing their robes out. “For I am the blood god.” Sounds of protest could be heard from the shimmering figures, shocked and upset. Vibe scoffed and turned away from the shimmering figures, proud of their statement. As they reveled in the attention of their peers, a voice rang out louder and more prominent than the others. “I do believe, your claims are false.” Vibe whirled around to be greeted by the sight of Mira’s once dead body standing in front of the ritual table. The gapping hole in her chest should be spewing blood, but instead, it was dry. No red liquid spilling out of the wound. Vibe took note of the wound, wondering how it was possible Mira was alive. “B-But, how so?” Vibe stuttered out, shocked at both the accusation and at Mira’s state. 

The two undead figures both looked terrible, although Mira looked slightly more put together than Vibe. Transparent skin and dark eye bags were prominent on the two figures, and to put it simply, they looked like they had been in a train wreck. A gaping wound in Mira’s chest and multiple of them on Vibe’s made it clear that something was amiss. “If you are a god, I find it highly suspicious that you were able to die multiple times.” Mira spoke, posture perfect as she replied with a cool voice. “It is common knowledge that a god can not die, unless they are forgotten or no longer worshiped. And I must say, I don’t believe the blood god has been forgotten. So in conclusion, you are no god, dear Vibe.” Vibe tired to protest, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, but Mira spoke up again. “So if my theory is correct. You are nothing more than a mere mortal with a few rebirth spells on their side.” 

Sounds of awe and shock could now be heard from the shimmering figures of the sacrificed, stunned by the simple remark. Turning a bit red, Vibe snapped back at the taller figure. “You are no god either, you died too!” Mira raised an eyebrow at this, as if to say ‘are you sure about that’. “You must have used a regeneration potion! You had to!” Mira only shook her head, a hand waving towards the ritual room. “Where is your evidence, dearest friend. Your claim must have proof.” And so Vibe searched the room violently for an empty bottle, one that had a trace of regeneration potion in it. But they had no evidence to back up their claim. “Fuck.” Was all they could say as they sunk to the floor, defeated. “In truth, I did not believe anyone would oppose me when I stated my claim.” Vibe looked up at the tall figure. “You’re rebirth was not accounted for.” Mira moved a hand to touch the wound on her chest, a small frown forming. “It seems to me, Dear, that you have been outplayed.” Was the dark eyed girls response, which drew a growl from the pale figure. “Why so upset, Dear? You made a mistake, a human error. One is not perfect as long as they are human.” A scoff escaped Vibe as they stumbled to their feet. “You are a broken shell of a leader-“ They hissed out, crazed look from before seeping it’s way back onto their features. “How can one be broken, for I am no porcelain doll. How can one be broken, if one is not mortal?” Mira shot back, hand moving to unclasp the buttons of her cloak, letting the maroon fabric flutter to the ground. “What is a story without a plot, what is a stream without a current. There are things in this world that you do not understand. And you mustn’t judge them on that.” 

Hand pressed against the edge of the wound, Mira let out a soft hum, the wound slowly closing up as she spoke up again. “May our own plotlines intersect once more, dearest Vibe, and may you write your own story.” She said, before turning to pick up the limp body of one of the sacrifices, “come now, darling Frogéy, we deserve a wonderful epilogue” and then Mira walked out of the circular room, her parting words resonating throughout them. 

“Vibe, perhaps I am not broken. Instead, maybe it’s you who refuses to believe.”


	2. The epilogue

The world was quiet. Ever since that monumental day at the ritual room, the world had been peaceful. It was a nice change to the previous situation, wars raging over nothing and bloodshed so normal you would be shocked if your clothes weren’t stained at least a bit red. The blood god had disappeared, leaving nothing but quiet in their absence. Many speculated what had happened to the god, theories thrown about easily. Some say the blood god had grown bored of their mortal troubles, and left them to create chaos elsewhere. Some say they had retired, a long awaited rest now theirs. 

It was both. 

A pink haired girl carefully backed in through a pair of wooden doors, a stack of boxes balanced precariously in their arms as they weaved around customers and employees alike. “Love! Darling, I’ve got your shipment of ginger from Nightmare!” They called out, smiling politely at a few familiar faces as they made their way towards the counter. A happy squeal could be heard from the back room, and a blue eyed individual came rushing towards the counter area, drawing a chuckle from the pink haired girl from before. Sliding the boxes over the counter, the taller of the two figures leaned over and planted a quick kiss on the shorter’s freckle covered cheek, a wide grin spreading across their face as the freckled covered individual turns a light pink. “They say hi, by the way, and they might stop by for a cup a’ tea before the next voyage.” Mira said, vaulting over the counter and sauntering over to a plate of freshly baked cookies that were meant for the customers. Picking up the top cookie of the pile, the dark eyed individual let out a soft hum as they bit into it, surveying the bustling shop. 

A sudden pain wracked through the scar covered girl, making her let out a distressed groan, eyes widening slightly as a hand moved to clutch her stomach. What the fuck? Frogéy, the purple haired individual from before, turned at the sudden noise, eyebrows furrowing at Mira’s shocked state. “Are you alright, what happened?” They asked hurriedly, a frown forming. Mira hesitated to answer, not wanting to concern the innocent Frogéy. Looking up, dark eyes met crystal ones, and with a forced smile, Mira lord through her teeth. “I’m alright, Doll, probably just a bruise from the ship earlier.” They pressed, hand moving away from their stomach. “The deck was slippery today.” Thankfully, the slightly shorter of the two believed her lie, giving Mira one last look before going back to work. The pink haired girl let out a small sigh of relief, standing behind the counter for a moment before moving to vault over it again. Leaning over to press one last kiss to Frogéy’s cheek, Mira saluted playfully and backed out of the wooden doors. 

The moment she was out of Frogéy’s line of sight, Mira let a panicked look was over her as she stumbled into a back alley. Frantically, she checked her pulse, and being unable to find one on her wrist, moved to her neck. Holding still, she waited with two fingers on her neck, eyes closed tight. A heartbeat, and then moments later, another one. She was still alive, good, but her pulse was slowing down. That could only mean one thing. Her status as a god was weakening, the blood god was no longer a major deity. Mira let out an annoyed groan, throwing her head back and glaring up at the sky. She was happy, content, why must worship be a gods only life source, her mortal form would not last long. Mira searched her brain for options, a way out, a way around this slow decay. But there were none. The god known for her strategy, intellect and logic had no solution to her biggest problem yet. She could only accept her mortal form and its limited time remaining. It was only a matter of time before she left Frogéy alone in this new world. 

A soft whimper left the broken god, and for the first time in millennia, the divine god let golden tears travel down her scarred cheeks. 

———

The next few weeks Mira spent as much time around Frogéy and her friends as she could, and every day, her pulse weakened. At first, Mira was afraid if she spoke to Frogéy, they would break down in front of them. At first, Mira refused to show her weakening state. But soon enough, she learned to relax in her decaying form, and began to cling onto the things she had left in life. 

Days were spent with Frogéy alone, walks through the forest hand in hand, picnics on the beach and stargazing in the flower meadow. Soft embraces and even softer gazes. It was something Mira gripped onto with such determination, the mere feeling would probably travel with her to the afterlife. After Mira had left the ritual tunnels, her first action free from the cult was too seek out a powerful necromancer to bring Frogéy back to the land of the living. The two of them had grown closer after that fateful day, traveling the world side by side. It was no longer a god to a follower, it was now a friend to a friend. And eventually, something more than friends. They had stumbled upon a small fishing village after escaping a Minotaur attack, and grew to love the place they now called home. Mira started a new life, working on a fishing boat. Frogéy decided to open up a tea shop, that served pastries and deserts alongside rare teas. The two of them were happy. The townsfolk knew not of their previous lives, many speculated where they had come from though. Some were certain Mira was part siren, wooing a forest spirit with her inhuman abilities. Others demanded that Frogéy was, intact, the supernatural one, and Mira was nothing more than an old farm hand. Their favorite theory has to be the one that claimed Mira was a war general that fell in love with the enemy, and they had run away together. 

But the theories would soon end. And so they did. 

It happened on a normal Tuesday morning. Three weeks after Mira had begun her descent from god-hood. She was walking through the market, a basket of apples swaying on her elbow as she walked, when a shout came from up the road. 

“COME QUICK, SOMEONE IS ATTACKING THE TEA SHOP!” 

The basket of apples fell to the floor with a thud, Mira setting out in a full sprint, expertly weaving through the crowd and over market stalls. Kicking down the door without hesitation, a frantic looking Mira stood in the doorway, taking in the scene before her. Customers cowering under tables and benches, terrified looks on their faces as they hid. Hired employees stood still against one wall, hands held above them, equally terrified looks on their faces. And Frogéy. They were being held up against the wall behind the counter, a hand wrapped around their collar, a neutrally defiant expression on their face as they spat at their attacker. 

“Okay, put them down.” Mira ordered, her voice deadly calm as she stepped closer into the shop. “Leave, and no one needs to get hurt.” But the figure holding Frogéy by their collar merely laughed, causing Mira to tense up further. She knew that laugh. For it was one she had heard many times years ago. Impossible, how did he.. “you think I will obey your orders, just because you said I should?” The figure spoke, maroon hood falling as they figure their head back to laugh, chestnut brown locks exposed. “I am no longer a follower of you, you filthy god.” Mira’s stoic look broke into an annoyed scowl, eyes darkening further. “And yet here you are, you’ve followed me to this fishing village, have you not?” Mira replied coldly, taking another few steps closer to the robed man. Shaking their head, Frogéy was released from the mans grip as they turned towards Mira, a familiar face hidden slightly behind chestnut hair.

“You look different, Mira, one could almost say you look ill.” Retorted the brunette, Mira’s scowl fading just a tad. “Haven’t you noticed my work? People have forgotten you, oh divine one. You must be feeling less.. god like by now.” 

“you aren’t looking too tip top either, Wilbur.” 

“Perhaps, it has been a few years, hasn’t it? I’m no god, I must age.” 

“I’d say you aged well, but that would be a lie.” 

“Why- No, I’m not here for you banter. I’m here to end everything once and for all.” 

“Good luck with that, you’ve always been a twig.” 

There was no response, instead Wilbur had launched towards Mira with a golden sword, set on killing the previous god. A bit startled, Mira was just a hair too fast, side stepping easily, and yet still winding when the blade cut her ear. Rude. Steadying herself once more Mira sent a look towards Frogéy, raising an eyebrow. A nod was the response, and Frogéy dived underneath the counter, scrambling to find something. Meanwhile, Mira dodged another one of Wilbur’s wild attempts, the patrons and staff watching on in amazement at her fluid movements. Standing up from a hasty duck, Mira sent a sarcastic smile towards Wilbur, “you’ve gotten better with a sword, wonderful job.” The only response was a huff and another stab towards the chest, on which she proceeded to lean back into a fucking backbend and stay there for a moment, before kicking off and swinging her legs over, flicking Wilbur in the nose with the top of her boot as she did so. As Mira cartwheeled to her feet, she noted the object being thrown at her, catching it easily with one hand, the other moving to tug off her over coat. 

So there they stood, Wilbur with his ritual robes and gold sword, facing off Mira, dressed in a white button up and sailing trousers, diamond blade parrying Wilbur’s golden one. Two fierce warriors facing off. One mortal, and one sickly god. It was a terrifying sight. Sparks flew as blades crashed together, two sets of dark eyes glaring at one another as the two fought. Mira, with centuries upon centuries of training techniques, against Wilbur, an excellent swordsmen with a fierce passion to end the God’s now-mortal life. It was a whirlwind of shimmering blades and clashing sparks. But Mira had the upper-hand, millennia of endless training and battles boosting her abilities, even if she was sick and dying. 

No one expected what happened next. 

Wilbur knew he was loosing. And desperate times meant desperate measures. So, he did the only thing he could think of. He turned, and threw his golden sword towards Frogéy, impaling their shoulder and effectively knocking them down. Mira froze, her grip on her blade loosening as she stared at the scene in shock. A series of emotions washed over her, shock, concern, despair, sorrow, and finally, anger. Dark eyes switched to a blood red, glowing with the light of a thousand imploding stars as a dangerous aura began radiating off of the pink haired god. 

“Life should not be controlled by the need to control others.” The god spoke, voice echoing with the force of a thunderstorm, “By opposing the forces of life itself, one shall die by the very thing in which one had sought to control.” She raised her free hand, fingers poised together as she looked down at the chestnut haired individual one last time. “Must there be Blood For The Blood God.” And with a snap, the gods opposer withered away in a matter of seconds, until they were nothing more but a pile of ashes and fabric. 

Mira turned to her bleeding lover, phasing through the counter as though it were nothing but an illusion, and kneeled next to their butchered shoulder. With a soft smile, the blood god placed a hand where the sword had once been, her entire being glowing as a paragraph of words tumbled from her lips. As they glow died down, it was clear that Mira had sacrificed the rest of her divine powers into healing Frogéy. And so, the purple haired shop owner sat up with a jolt, and the pink haired former-god slumped forwards into their chest. They scrambled to readjust the dying girl, tears welling up in the corners of crystal blue eyes as a laugh escaped the sickly god. 

“When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars,” recited the dying girl, a shell of what once used to be, “And he will make the face of heaven so fine. That all the world will be in love with night.” She took a deep breath in, before closing her eyes for the last time. “And pay no worship to the garish sun. Honor no man but yourself, and you loved one. Live no life except the one you write.” 

“Goodbye, my love.”


End file.
